


Crocosima

by QuarterClever



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Flower Language, M/M, also possibly ooc but whatevs, flower shop au, slightly less creepier Lucifer than I normally write yay!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 12:28:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1145988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuarterClever/pseuds/QuarterClever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Lucifer owns a flower shop. Sam’s in once to pick up a present for his mother.  He comes in every week for the next two months after.</p>
<p>Lucifer keeps trying to give Sam hints, but Sam isn't very good at deciphering flowers</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crocosima

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amayakumiko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amayakumiko/gifts).



Lucifer was supposed to lock up an hour ago but he’s still sitting behind the counter in his empty store, eyes trained on the door. It’s Wednesday, and Sam hasn’t been in yet. That hasn’t happened before, not since Sam the first came stumbling into Devil’s Snare a few months back. It’s not often that Lucifer cares enough about customers to truly notice things like this. He knows the ones that comes in regularly, enough to make a few comments, an offhand “haven’t seen you in awhile,” but he doesn’t care if they ever come back or not—there’s always other customers. He wouldn’t keep the store open late for anyone else, but he’s cared if Sam came back or not since the first time he stumbled in on that Wednesday a few months before.

It’s the fact that Sam comes in on a Wednesday that makes Lucifer sit up and take notice of him in the first place. The customers who buy flowers on Wednesdays—not the ones who place orders to be picked up that weekend, but the others—those are the interesting ones. The one’s whose flowers have stories behind them. 

Devil’s Snare is packed on the weekends. There’s Friday night dates and Saturday dinner parties and Sunday family lunches, all of which mean people giving their friends and family flowers, because nothing says “I love you” like a bunch of overpriced dead plants (he sometimes wonders if it’s an effect of being in the business that’s got him so jaded, especially given his brother Gabriel’s similar attitude towards the gourmet chocolate he sells, but he never was one for the supposed romance of flowers). Mondays are always busy too, of course—people have to atone for all the ways they screwed up the previous weekend. But Wednesdays? Everyone else’s hump day is the closest thing he gets to a day off—it’s rare to get a customer, but he’s still got plenty of paperwork. 

So when Sam comes stumbling in, red-eyed and rumpled, that’s interesting.

It’s been a long time since interesting walked through his door.

Interesting (he’s not Sam yet, just a tall man in a cheap suit) just grabs the first bouquet he sees, that first time (red marigolds in yellow cellophane, cheery but nothing special), shoves too much money at Lucifer without seeming to see him, and wanders out again. There’s no story behind the flowers, no offhand comment about it being for a new lover or sick friend, no hints given from Sam’s appearance. Lucifer figures he’ll never see him again, which is disappointing. It’s not often someone walks into his shop where he’s not sure why exactly they’re there. The ones like that never come back; Lucifer generally imagines what they might have wanted the flowers for for a bit before eventually forgetting they were ever there. Except for how Sam does.

He’s back in Devil’s Snare a week later, eyes less red and suit less rumpled, looking like he’s a little more in touch with the world. He never stops coming back in. Sam asks for recommendations for flowers and he listens and takes Lucifer’s advice. Lucifer takes advantage of the fact that Sam never seems to care what the flowers mean or even much what they look like, just so long as they’re not too expensive. It becomes a game to him—selling Sam flowers with meanings Sam could decipher if he ever bothered to look them up. Lily of the valley, the third time Sam’s in, because he wants Sam to know that whatever’s upsetting him, it won’t last forever. Over time the tone of the messages shift, from something Lucifer would send a friend to the sorts of things… well, he doesn’t know who Sam’s giving the bouquets to, but he’s hoping that it’s not someone he’s interested in pursuing, especially not if they’ve even a passing familiarity with flower language. The alyssum Lucifer sells Sam on a few weeks after they’ve met isn’t exactly subtle. 

Lucifer glances at the bouquet behind him. It’s wrapped in cheap red cellophane—he’d tried for nicer wrappings, earlier on, but Sam refused if he thought Lucifer were trying to give him too much for too cheap—but it’s positively bursting with flowers and greenery. Chestnut, coriander, ivy geranium in one bunch; lime blossom, penciled geranium, elder, and cape jasmine gathered in another; lemon blossoms, sweet pea, and maple sprigs in the last, all surrounded in flowering rue. The message is a bit crass, but then it’s not as if Sam’s seemed to pick up on any of his others. He can allow himself this indulgence.  
If Sam ever shows, that is.

\--

The bell over the door rings, startling Lucifer awake. Sam’s stumbled in through the front door, looking just as lost as he did that first day.

“It’s been a year,” he croaks out, lurching forward until he’s leaning heavily on the counter in front of Lucifer. “I didn’t find out ‘til two months ago but it was a year ago and I’ve brought her flowers ever since but it doesn’t matter because she’s gone and I wasn’t there.” Lucifer has no idea what Sam’s talking about, but he can piece it together. He knows what grief looks like.

He guides Sam around the corner, pushing him to sit down on the stool Lucifer had been sleeping on. Sam slumps on it, hiccupping sobs wracking his shoulders. This isn’t what he was expecting when he was waiting for Sam; he had no chance of anticipating something like this even knowing that something was bothering him and that Sam had missed their weekly meeting for the first time. Sam needs to be taken care of, that much is obvious.

Lucifer glances back at the bouquet he’d made for tonight, trying not to let the frown show on his face. He can always remake it another day. “Tell me about her,” he says instead gently, moving the bouquet to the side. “Tell me about her and we’ll put together some flowers to take to her grave—nice ones, ones that mean something.”

His original giant flower arrangement ends up in the trash—it’s too personal to try and sell, after all—but he thinks maybe this time around Sam gets something of Lucifer’s feelings when he hands him the bouquet, even if it doesn’t match the flowers at all.

**Author's Note:**

> idek I'm sorry
> 
> Anyway, here's some info about the flowers in the story:  
> [Crocosmia](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crocosmia) ([lucifer](http://apps.rhs.org.uk/plantselector/plant?plantid=579))
> 
> [Datura](http://www.fragrantica.com/news/DATURA-3205.html) (aka devil’s snare)  
> Marigold: grief, psychic powers :P  
> Lily of the valley: return of happiness  
> Alyssum: worth beyond beauty  
> [Lucifer’s bouquet meaning explanation (don’t judge me)](http://quarterclever.tumblr.com/post/49574458956/thenakedlibrarianontheroof-quarterclever): chestnut, coriander, ivy geranium; lime blossom, penciled geranium, elder, cape jasmine; lemon blossoms, sweet pea, maple; surrounded in rue


End file.
